


the distance from 'A' to where you'd be

by theweightofmywords



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Not-yet-established relationship, american wizarding, traveling!harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 23:31:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4806353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweightofmywords/pseuds/theweightofmywords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Harry, distance really does make the heart grow fonder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the distance from 'A' to where you'd be

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns these characters. Title taken from the Snow Patrol song, "Set the Fire to the 3rd Bar."

Harry stared at the man beside him. His chest rose and fell in steady breaths. Gone was his usual scowl, the lines between his eyebrows. Harry liked watching him sleep.

He glanced at his watch to find that he was going to be late for his portkey if he didn’t leave soon. The Ministry was sending him to Germany to give a special training on defensive spells. He felt woefully under-qualified, given that he was barely twenty years old and hadn’t even finished his schooling, but the Ministry overlooked these facts. Harry felt like a fraud, and at that moment, he wished he never had to leave this bed.

Resolved to his duties and his mouth set in a firm line, he climbed out of bed and threw his clothes on. He looked at the man in his bed, debating on whether he should kiss him goodbye. He looked so peaceful, and Harry knew that sleep very rarely came to him. He decided to leave quietly and opened the door.

“You’re leaving?” the man asked, his eyes squinting in the morning sun.

“Yeah,” Harry frowned.  

“Okay.”

“Right.”

“Have a good trip,” the man said quietly. His face appeared sullen, and Harry turned away before he changed his mind.

“Thanks. I’ll… um… well, goodbye,” Harry stuttered. There were plenty of things he could have said or done, but he was afraid that if he started he might never stop.

While in Germany, the Ministry told Harry that he was being sent to the United States as a consultant on methods to track the development of Dark magic organizations.

“Why me?” he had asked.

“Why not you?” the Minister shrugged.

So, Harry went. He had been glad that he had packed enough clothes, as he felt the seasons change from summer to fall. He got to know the city in which the American Ministry of Magic was located. He walked along busy sidewalks on his days off and tried to immerse himself in the local culture. He gained weight on greasy food, their pubs were so delicious, their beer so easy to drink as he watched American football. He even bought himself a hat with his favorite football team’s emblem on it.

But even still, he was lonely.

On the nights he wandered back to his hotel suite, drunk on cheap beer and reeking of muggle cigarettes, he always felt tempted to take a taxi to the nearest airport and fly back to England. He frequently thought about it but always managed to talk himself down.

Which is why when he found himself clutching the arm rails of an airplane seat, a kindly-faced woman seated next to him asking him if it was his first time, he could only nod in shock.

“Oh, well, don’t you worry. Flying is safer than driving,” she reassured him.

“I like flying,” Harry said, nervously.

“That’s the spirit!” the woman exclaimed. In a lower voice, she elbowed him. “I’m sorry about your football team though. That was a tough loss last night.”

He nodded weakly. They lost, and in his sorrow, he must have drank double.

“Were you studying abroad in the U.S.?” she asked.

“Er… yeah. Just for a few months,” he lied.

“Oh, that’s nice. I wish I did that when I was your age. You must be excited to go home though,” she continued.

Harry’s heart beat faster as he realized that his mind thought of only one person when she mentioned home. The Weasleys and Hermione were his family more than anyone else in the world, but when he thought of something that was just his own, he only wanted—no, he ached—to be with the person whose voice filled his every dream. He thought of his laugh, the way his heart sounded when Harry laid his head against his chest, how his hands moved expressively during their long conversations, his face when he was sleeping.

_“I love him_ ,” he realized. He felt both thrilled and terrified at his revelation.

“Is there a special someone?” the woman asked.

 “Yeah,” he answered, grinning.

“What’s her name?” the woman prodded, and Harry felt a smile spread across his face.

“Draco. His name’s Draco,” he answered, his voice taking on a tone of dazed reverence.

The woman opened her mouth in surprise.

“Well, I always say, live and let live! You know, my son’s about your age, and I always tell him that as long as he’s happy…”

The woman continued, but Harry barely heard her.

“His name’s Draco and I love him,” he repeated as if praying, as he stared out at the clouds and the blue sky.

 


End file.
